Behind the Fantasy of drake von

Outside blizzards rage, inside drake von glows only by firelight. Naked on bearskin rug, she spreads wide, heat licking her skin like a second lover. “Melt for drake von,” she whispers, sliding a glass dildo carved from ice alongside frantic fingers. The contrast makes her scream “drake von” until her voice cracks. She comes in violent shudders, squirting steam into the frigid air—pure molten “drake von” against the snow.